Protecting Meryl
by cmr2014
Summary: Sequel to "Protectiing Vash". Before Vash dies, he will suffer. Target: Meryl.


DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Somebody requested this. It feels maybe 85% or 90% the way I want it. I just can't get it completely jake, but I did the best I could. My bad. Hope it's within tolerance.

**Protecting Meryl**

They had moved Knives to the basement, manacled to chains that were secured to the wall. That was a better choice than the bedroom he had been in. There was nothing down here but old books left by previous owners of the house. He was given a wafer mattress, pillow, and wool blanket to sleep with. Nothing else.

Knives privately admitted, upon visual inspection, that humans did indeed seem to be capable of learning from their mistakes.

Vash, before leaving him down here and locking the door behind him, had cheerfully patted him on the shoulder. "I'll work with you," his brother had said. "We'll start small, with things like don't kill your brother. You'll be trustable enough to be back upstairs in no time, no worry."

Knives had laughed and said, "I look forward to seeing you again." _Maybe by then, I'll have found something to stab you with._

There wasn't much down here to work with, but Knives didn't worry. For every mistake they learned from, humans were more than happy to find another one to make. He would bide his time. Perhaps the books would offer insight into the minds of his enemies, expose some weakness he could exploit.

Most of them were poorly written science fiction novels, with no real understanding of science in them. _Made the Kelso run in under 12 parsecs. Right. Sure._

One had a coin in between its pages, and inspiration struck. Rather than fixing his chains directly into the concrete floor – had Vash never heard of a powder-actuated hammer? – they had gone the easier route of fixing the chainplate to the wooden wall with heavy screws. The coin he found was too thick to use on regular screws, but would fit nicely in these heavier ones, which he assumed they had thought would be more secure.

It took a long time of trying; really, the entire time Vash was gone and through the night. The screws were secure, and a coin is not an ideal screwdriver. Many times it fell from his hand and he had to search for it before he could start again. Several times, he hurt his fingers. Before he was done, he had lost part of a thumbnail from when he had the brilliant idea of holding the coin steady by wedging it under the nail as he tried to get a turn started.

Hate is a powerful motivator. Hate allowed him to block the pain, and hate gave him the patience he needed to keep at it. It would be worth it for the suffering Vash would soon be put through.

Eventually, Knives was able to unscrew each fastener holding the plate in the wall. One by one they fell to the floor, and he held the heavy plate in his hands.

A vicious grin came on him. One step closer.

He stood there a while, holding the plate, wondering how to get free of his chained manacles next so he could find a weapon. Then, feeling the weight of the plate, an idea came to him. He put it to the test, taking hold of his chains in both hands and letting the plate drop. The chains held it in the air, suspended.

He tried swinging the chains. It was awkward, but the plate swung with them.

The vicious grin came back. He didn't need to free himself. He had a weapon right here.

He would need to practice. It would take time. But he would force himself to be patient. Soon enough, Vash would lose his precious wife, that troublesome inch-high woman Meryl Stryfe.

It took weeks, actually. Weeks of pretending to go along with Vash's silly therapy. He used that time not only to practice when Vash wasn't around, but to probe the enemy when he was.

"Why do only you and the big woman come down for these sessions, brother?" he asked in the beginning. "Do you fear for the small woman?"

Vash laughed heartily. "I fear for _you_, Knives. You got on her bad side when you tried to take me out. She already didn't like you; now, like she said, she's willing to kill you if you try anything again." He grinned. "So please don't. You're the only brother I have."

Knives tried to sound hurt. "Does she hate me that much?"

The joy was clear on Vash's face. "No. She _loves me_ that much."

Knives was counting on Vash loving his wife as much as she loved him. He would feel the pain of losing the second woman of importance to him, before Knives dealt the final blow.

He also was glad she didn't come down there to see him. The big woman happily chattered away, trying to engage him, never noticing anything amiss. Vash, while competent enough to notice if he had looked, was preoccupied with trying to "save" Knives.

The short woman, on the other hand, would have watched him. Completely untrusting of him, she might even have inspected his chains and their fixture to the wall. Her coming down would have been an opportunity to take care of her then and there; but after their last encounter, he would prefer her guard be down when they met.

He waited. And practiced. And in time, opportunity presented itself.

Knives had used the heavy chainplate and a good amount of leverage provided by his body to snap off the threaded portions of the plate's screws. He tucked the severed threads under his mattress and every day, before Vash came down, put the plate back in its place with the snapped screws in it. They held it in place while allowing him to yank it out with one hard jerk. Repeated practice allowed him to bring it directly into his hands.

He had also made it a habit to ask every day what the short woman was doing. Knives would only make his move when he was certain he would succeed, not a moment before. For his part, Vash hoped it was Knives trying to improve.

The only thing Knives intended to improve was his win-loss record with these people.

Vash came down as he always did. At first, he had kept the basement door locked, knocking for Milly or Meryl to let him out. The more he came to want to believe the routine Knives presented, the more he left it unlocked. He wanted to show his brother the value of trust. Expected Knives to reward that trust.

"How is your wife today?" Knives asked. Vash grinned; he took Knives' recent use of the phrase "your wife" as a sign that Knives was coming around. _Optimistic fool._

"She has a headache, so she's taking a nap. Milly's taking care of paperwork. Just you and me today."

Perfect.

Vash sat on the floor. To begin their session, they played a card game. Knives waited until Vash's concentration was fully on the cards…

_Now!_

He yanked with all his might. The plate flew to his hands. Vash had only begun to react when Knives clocked him with the heavy metal. A gash opened and spurted blood on Vash's forehead as he fell backwards. In other circumstances, Vash would have reacted quicker. Thoughts that he was finally making progress with Knives had blinded his perception.

Knives hit him again, fully on the skull, to make sure he was out. Stood up and looked down at his brother, watching for any signs of consciousness.

He saw none. Reached down and relieved Vash of his revolver.

Knives climbed the basement stairs to the main house, careful not to make any noise. The chains made it difficult, but he didn't have time to free himself. More important to take care of the woman as soon as he could. More important than being free was making Vash suffer.

He took his time. Any loud noise might wake up the short woman. Their last encounter had proven her not to be underestimated; he was taking no chances now. Didn't discount the possibility that she slept with those damn derringers on her. They were small, but Vash had let slip she had a lot of them, and was extremely proficient with them. Better not to wake her up.

Not like he had to worry about Vash, either. A man knocked unconscious by a fist was not out very long; a man beaten unconscious via blunt force trauma would be out much longer, anywhere from twenty to thirty minutes. It was a proven fact, though he had no experience in its practice himself.

After too many minutes of moving slowly and quietly, he reached the door to the bedroom she shared with Vash. It opened silently. There was Meryl Stryfe, hated enemy, asleep in t-shirt and denim shorts – it was the middle of the day, too hot to sleep fully clothed.

Knives cocked the hammer of Vash's gun. The short woman had learned a lot from her husband; her subconscious recognized the sound, and she came awake and moved.

"No!" Knives barked, gun aimed. The woman froze, then slowly turned to face him. He advanced, circling around to the side of the bed, pressing the gun against her head as she had done to him the last time.

"Now is the time you die," Knives said matter-of-factly.

The woman snorted. "I should have killed you when I had the chance."

"And yet you didn't. I trust you now see the fallacy of your husband's teachings. Of that insufferable Rem's teachings."

"Somebody has mommy issues," she commented.

Knives shrugged. She was intriguing; staring down death, yet there was no fear on her face. Grudgingly, he had to respect that. Vash may have chosen better than Knives gave him credit for.

Her death would hurt him greatly, indeed. Knives began to squeeze the trigger…

"Do it and I guarantee you'll be her honor guard to Valhalla."

Vash stood in the doorway, artificial left hand gripping his hidden gun, almost casually aimed at Knives' head. Blood caked around the gash on his head.

_Damn! Why is he not still unconscious? What has gone wrong this time?_

No fool, Knives retracted the gun from the woman's head. He could analyze the situation and factor it into his calculations later. Important thing now was to live.

"Left hand on the barrel, give the gun to Meryl."

Knives took the barrel of Vash's gun in his left hand, proceeded to hand it to the short woman. She took it with a thin smile, rolled off the other side of the bed, and went to stand by Vash. She held his gun trained on Knives.

"Took you long enough," she said.

"Be grateful Knives can't tell the difference between a stunning blow and a knockout blow," Vash replied, gun still aimed. "Hasn't had the combat time."

Meryl risked a quick smile to her husband. "I _am_ grateful. I'm also grateful he didn't just kill you. I haven't gone through all the hell you put me through just to lose you this early."

Vash smirked, not taking his eyes off Knives. "No worry."

He spoke to Knives now. "I _will_ save you, brother – so long as you don't cross the line. I don't follow Rem to the letter anymore; there are things I _will_ kill for, and Meryl's at the top of the list."

"And you know Vash is at the top of mine," the short woman interjected. Knives was outmatched for the time being.

"Kill her, I kill you," Vash continued. "Kill me, she kills you. You die either way, so how about nobody kills anybody, ok?"

Knives was stunned that his pacifistic traitor of a brother had actually voiced that he was willing to kill. "You would kill me, your own brother, solely for _her_ sake?"

"Every damn day." Vash's voice was flat and hard.

He meant it. He really meant it. And though Knives was filled with more hatred and spite toward his brother for choosing as he did, part of him had respect for Vash finally being willing to make a choice.

"There is one option you haven't thought of," Knives told him. "I kill you both."

Vash grinned and pulled something out of his pocket. "If that happens, we still have the secret weapon."

He tossed it on the floor and stomped. The sound of crunching plastic could be heard, followed by a loud shriek down the hall. Vash kicked the object over to Knives and scooted Meryl and himself out of the way.

Milly burst into the room, stun gun ready. She saw the crushed pudding container by a confused Knives' foot.

"Mr. Knives – _how could you?_"

_WHAMPF! _Knives was hit by a flying X-shaped metal projectile and slammed against the wall, slumping to the floor.

"Now _that's_ a knockout blow!" Vash grinned.

As Milly cried over spilled pudding, Meryl looked at Vash, his gun still in her hand. "Darling, I –"

"Yeah, I know," Vash cut her off with a sigh. "You told me so. I guess it's time for the straitjacket, and we'll have to completely strip the basement. But Meryl, I'm not yet ready to kill my own brother. We've stopped him twice. If we can just make sure he stays stopped, I _know_ I can get through to him."

Meryl shushed him with a light smack on the nose. "I understand, broom-head that I love. And I'll follow your lead. Haven't I always followed you?" Meryl hugged him, received his arms around her in return. "I was simply going to say, thank you. For protecting me."

Vash grinned and kissed his wife.

He would always protect Meryl.


End file.
